


Trapped in the IKEA, Part Whatever

by lechatsavant



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: IKEA, Locked In, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatsavant/pseuds/lechatsavant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if the Chicago Blackhawks' two biggest stars get locked inside a certain Swedish homegoods store? The answer may surprise you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped in the IKEA, Part Whatever

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at some point beyond the 2015-16 season.
> 
> I took some liberties with the layout of an IKEA store, especially the one in Schaumburg, so it's kind of a mashup of a few store maps I found online. Yes, yes, I know the pillows are not full and fluffy when purchased. Just work with me on this.
> 
> Also shoutout to my bestie for supplying me with pictures of the Atlanta IKEA and suggesting hiding places for the dynamic duo. Excellent field work, my friend. 
> 
> I know it's not completely plausible that this could happen (cleaning crew, security cameras, etc.), but hey, what if it could?

“Shit!”

Jonathan was startled by Patrick’s sudden outburst. It wasn’t so much what he said, but the fact that he practically screamed it in his ear that made him jump. The plane ride back from St. Paul after winning an otherwise boring matinee game against the Wild had been quiet up to this point, save for Seabs’ audible frustration over Shawzy beating him at cards _yet again_. Leave it to Patrick to disrupt the silence.

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked. He was clearly annoyed that not only had Patrick interrupted what had been a pleasant flight, but he made him lose his place in the book he was reading.

“I have to buy pillows.” Patrick looked desperate, like his life depended on purchasing bedding. God only knew why he needed them.

“Get them tomorrow.” Jonathan started looking for the last page he read.

“But I need them tonight, I don’t have any.”

Jonathan shouldn’t have asked because he dreaded the answer. But he did anyway. “What happened to your pillows?”

“Pillow fight with my sisters. We destroyed all of mine, so I borrowed ones from the hotel. I gave them back before I left, so now I don’t have any.”

Jonathan sighed in exasperation. “Where are you gonna go? By the time we get back to the city, pretty much everything will be closed.”

Patrick fiddled with his phone for a moment, then grinned and said “Aha!” like he’d made some profound discovery. “IKEA.”

“You’ll have to drive to the suburbs for that. You might not have time.”

“Of course I will. It’s only…” Patrick checked his phone again. “Twenty-four minutes to Schaumburg from the airport.”

Jonathan snorted and went back to reading his book. Patrick looked up pillows on the IKEA website and prattled on about each one till Jonathan said “Just pick one that will kill you the fastest when I suffocate you with it.” It was a quiet plane ride the rest of the way home.

 

Once they landed at O’Hare, Patrick began acting like he’d been extremely overcaffeinated. He couldn’t keep still, and he rushed up to Hoss like he was about to knock him over. Pretty soon, he came running back to Jonathan, who braced for possible impact.

“hurryuphurryupletsgocomeon!” Patrick’s words ran together and made him sound like a child who’d been told he was going to Disneyland. It gave Jonathan some less than favorable flashbacks of when they roomed together on the road.

“Kaner, slow the fuck down,” he said with a scowl.

Patrick took a breath. “I said hurry up so we can go to IKEA.” He grinned. Dammit, he was trying to rope Jonathan in.

“I don’t wanna go.” On one hand, Patrick would need supervision if he was this wired. On the other hand, Jonathan was tired and just wanted to sprawl on the couch with his girlfriend’s dog.

Patrick whined. “C’mon, I need four pillows. It’ll be easier to carry them if two people do it.”

“Get Shaw to help you.”

“He said no.”

Fuck.

“Fine, but let’s take your car.” With those words, the awkward, eager puppy ran ahead of practically everyone. Jonathan really hoped Patrick knew what he was doing and could get them out of the store by closing time.

 

Jonathan didn’t know how they got to IKEA so quickly. Maybe it was Patrick willing them there quicker, maybe it was unusually light traffic, or maybe it was a higher being setting him up and waiting to drop the other shoe. All he knew was that once they entered the store, Patrick practically dragged him to the bedding section, handing Jonathan two pillows and taking two himself.

That’s when it started going downhill.

He had no clue how two Stanley Cup winning hockey players in expensive suits waddling around with pillows could get lost, but they did. They found themselves in the showroom on the second floor, and that’s when Patrick started to panic.

“Is there a bathroom up here?” He started looking around and eyed up the bathroom displays.

“Fuck’s sake, Kaner, don’t even think about it! There has to be one somewhere.” They wandered through the rooms till they found one in the corner by the stairs leading back to the Marketplace. Not wanting to look like an idiot babysitting a bunch of pillows, Jonathan followed Patrick into the restroom. As the door closed, he heard an ominous voice over the loudspeaker:

_“Attention IKEA shoppers, it is now 8 o’clock, and we will be closing. If you have items to purchase, please go now to the checkouts. Have a good evening, and thank you for shopping at IKEA.”_

Fucking hell.

Jonathan panicked as Patrick went into a stall. “Kaner, hurry up, they’ll be shutting down the checkout soon."

“Don’t fucking rush me! And they won’t close the store on us, how would that look? No one wants to hear ‘Kane and Toews got locked inside IKEA like idiots’. Trust me, it won’t happen.”

It felt like an eternity before Patrick emerged to wash his hands. As he dried them, he looked at the pillows stacked on the counter. “I don’t know, these might not work for me,” he said with a sigh.

“I thought you researched them on the plane,” Jonathan replied anxiously. “You picked those out and said you loved them.”

“Yeah, but do I really need to pay $65 for a pillow just because it’s full of duck feathers? I could get feather filled ones for $17 each and be just as happy. Maybe I’ll buy these, then bring them back tomorrow and get the cheaper ones. I don’t have time to switch them out now. Or maybe I’ll get those nice memory foam ones. I don’t know.”

“No time for debate, let’s go.”

“Hey, this shit’s important! Maybe I can hang in there for one more night and come back tomorrow when I’m not rushed.” Patrick stood there absently poking a pillow till he shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck it. Let’s just leave these on a bed and go.” He grabbed his pillows and motioned for Jonathan to do the same.

Before Jonathan could brace himself against the door, Patrick stopped. “Aw, fuck no.”

“What?”

“The lights are out.”

“WHAT?”

He pushed past Patrick and looked around. The showroom was dark, except for the minimal  track lighting in each enclave. There was no noise except the ambient store sounds and the occasional creak of a steel beam. He peered down the stairs and saw nothing but darkness there.

He turned to Patrick. “How long were we in there?”

“I don’t know. A while, maybe.” Patrick shifted the pillows under his arms.

“Put those damn things down and look at your watch. We went in there at 8. What time is it now?”

Patrick looked at his watch and cringed. “8:45.”

“We were in there over half an hour!?” Jonathan wanted to hit him with a pillow, but he remembered that he hadn’t paid for them.

“I couldn’t help it, I had to go!”

“And then you had to stand there thinking about these stupid pillows!”

“I told you, it’s important!”

Jonathan sighed and groaned. “I can’t believe we’re fucking locked in IKEA. We need to get out of here.” He put down the pillows and took out his phone. To his horror, the battery was drained. “You have got to be kidding me. I thought I charged this.”

“Wait, lemme text Seabs. He’ll take it from there.” Patrick pulled out his phone. “Aw shit, not mine too.”

“Great, stuck in a store with dead phones.” Jonathan wandered to the living room section and flopped down on an Ektorp couch.

Patrick sat down beside him, holding one of the pillows across his lap. “What are the odds that both batteries would be drained?”

“Who cares? You know people are gonna come looking for us. We’ll be out of here at some point.” Jonathan looked at Patrick. “Maybe.”

After a long silence, Patrick nudged him. “So, what do we do now?”

 

**9:15 p.m.**

“I should learn to cook,” Patrick lamented as he wandered through the kitchen section of the showroom. “Can’t have my mom cook for me forever.”

“I could teach you,” Jonathan said.

“Fuck off, you eat like a weirdo, with all that kale you grow and super organic shit. When was the last time you had something with sugar in it?”

“Sugar’s bad for you. Kale’s better.”

“A little sugar now and then won’t kill you.”

“Says the guy who drinks coffee with a ton of it.”

Patrick frowned and headed toward the sofa beds. “For your information, I do not put a ton of sugar in my coffee. It’s Splenda.”

 

**10 p.m.**

Jonathan rolled his eyes as Patrick flopped on yet another mattress in the showroom and sprawled out. He decided that since he couldn’t really test the pillows, he’d give the mattresses a “test drive” in case he ever needed a new one.

“You’re lucky they let people do that while the store’s open,” Jonathan said as he held Patrick’s suit jacket. He looked down at the lining and shook his head, because of course he’d have his name put on the label.

Patrick stretched out. “Hey, better to be hands-on than order these online.” He turned from one side to the other. “I’m not liking how squishy this is.”

“Squishy?” Jonathan laughed. “Great way to describe a mattress.”

“I mean I sink down in. Feels too soft.” Patrick got up and went to the next bed. “Here we go, this looks good.” He laid down and grinned. “Yeah, I like this one.”

“Great, now that we’ve figured that out, let’s leave. Oh wait, we can’t.” Jonathan sat at the foot of the bed with a loud huff.

Patrick sat up. “While we’re here, we might as well make the most of it. The shelves in the living rooms have books on them, I’m guessing they’re real. We could read those. And I’m gonna guess that the kitchen in the restaurant isn’t locked, so we could get something to eat if we’re hungry.” He was quiet for a moment. “And if no one comes for us, we could always pick out beds for later.”

Jonathan smiled slightly. “I guess you’re right. You know, I’ve never been here before. Let’s go look around downstairs.”

 

**10:22 p.m.**

They found the lighting section and stared at the lamps.

“What the hell are these?” Jonathan asked. “They don’t look like lamps.” He picked a small one up [that was sealed green glass](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/10260002/) in a decorative pattern.

Patrick tapped it gingerly. “Looks like a candy jar. How do you change the bulb in that?”

Jonathan read the tag. “It says it’s an LED lamp. ‘Small and easy to place anywhere you want to bring some coziness and mood lighting into your home.’ Not in my home.” He put it back and grabbed [the pink glass lamp](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/40259993/) next to it.

“Oh wow, the top comes off of this one,” Patrick said. He glanced at the picture near the display. “Why would you put anything in this? Lamp bulbs get hot.”

“It’s stupid. I don’t need mood lighting.” Jonathan put the pink lamp back and noticed a round ball sitting nearby. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Upon further inspection, it was another mood lighting lamp [that looked like a giant white bubble](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/70096377/).

“Don’t they have lamps that look like lamps and not like…” Jonathan pointed [to a frosted glass one in green](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/90219546/). “Like a damn nightlight.”

“Yeah, but people like these freaky looking things. Are we normal for liking regular lamps, or are we just two assholes who hate art and shit?” Patrick asked.

“I think we’re both,” Jonathan replied with a grin.

 

**11 p.m.**

As they sat in the living room section of the showroom looking through the display books, Jonathan heard a noise downstairs. “Kaner, did you hear that?” he said.

Patrick looked up from his magazine. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Jonathan went back to reading his book until he heard it again. “Seriously, I heard a noise. Sounded like it was downstairs.” He got up and went toward the escalators. There was scuffling in the Marketplace, and he heard muffled voices followed by a loud noise similar to a vacuum cleaner. He guessed it was the cleaning crew, which meant they could let them out.

But then it hit him. When was the last time he and Patrick did anything together outside of hockey? They were joined at the hip for interviews, commercials, appearances, you name it. He could say their friendship was better since being split up on their line and as roommates, but he had to admit that he missed it. Maybe they could just hang out in this giant store together and have some fun. If that meant staying locked all night in IKEA, so be it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a ding downstairs. He rushed back and grabbed Patrick by the arm.

“The fuck?” Patrick yipped.

“Shut up, I think someone’s coming up here.” He grabbed his suit jacket and dragged Patrick through the showroom till he found a shortcut to the children’s section. The second ding came from where they’d been, so Jonathan headed toward a display apartment in the corner of the showroom and ducked into the shower.

“Wanna explain why you just dragged me through half the floor and into a shower?” Patrick grumbled as he rubbed his arm.

“I didn’t want anyone to catch us,” Jonathan whispered.

“Wait, I thought the whole point was to wait till someone came so we could leave.”

Jonathan sighed. “Do you miss hanging out in our room on road trips?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. But what does this have to do with maybe getting out of here?”

“I miss talking to you. We don’t do that anymore. Not like two guys sitting there watching TV.”

“Four seasons later, you’re having separation anxiety? Wow, must be the kale.”

“I mean it. When was the last time we went to a ball game together?”

Patrick shook his head. “I...don’t remember.”

“That’s my point. We grew up together on the team. I think of you as one of my best friends. Sometimes I wish we could do stuff more often.” Jonathan felt a little embarrassed for saying that, but hell, it was Patrick. He’d understand.

Patrick was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I wish we could, too. Everyone’s married and has kids. Feels like we’re the last two holdouts.” He smiled. “Holdouts stick together.”

“So we’ll tough it out for the night?”

“Absolutely.”

There was an awkward silence before they heard the sound of a floor buffer slowly pass by the display apartment. After a long while, the noise stopped, so Jonathan decided to looked around. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he heard a soft ding, followed by silence and another, more muffled ding. He motioned for Patrick to join him, and they crept quietly through the showroom to the restaurant that was straight ahead.

They went behind the steam tables and stood silently to see if anyone was coming their way before going back to the kitchen. Like the showroom, the kitchen was mostly dark, save for the odd light here and there that gave the stainless steel an eerie glow. They noticed a double stovetop and a double oven, along with a commercial microwave. The sinks were off to the back.

“Since we’re here,” Jonathan said quietly, “we might as well eat something. I’m sure they use all Swedish stuff.”

Patrick paused. “Maybe we should wait till the cleaning crew’s gone so they don’t hear us back here.”

“Good call.” Jonathan crept out of the kitchen but stayed behind the counter before finally venturing out again and sneaking a peek into the Marketplace. He heard scuffling and then a sound like a heavy door sliding, and then nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief and went back into the kitchen.

“I think they’re gone,” he said as he hung up his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s get cooking.”

“Do they have meatballs?” Patrick wondered aloud as he looked around in the cabinets. While he did that, Jonathan found a walk-in cooler with huge bags and packages of frozen foods on the shelves. He looked closer at them and grinned.

“Hey, they have some kind of syrups to make drinks, so - oh, hell yes.” Patrick stood in the doorway of the walk-in, and his eyes grew wide when he saw the bags.

“Meatballs or smoked salmon?” Jonathan asked as he read them.

“Both,” Patrick said immediately.

 

**11:50 p.m.**

It took a while, but with their combined efforts, they came up with a pretty good late-night meal: meatballs and cream sauce, lingonberry jam, potato pancakes and smoked salmon on crispbreads. Patrick found some lingonberry drink boxes, and there were slices of chocolate cake thawing for dessert. They decided that since they were alone again, they’d sit down at the closest table out in the cafe.

“Do you think Swedish people eat like this all the time?” Patrick asked before taking a bite of a meatball.

“I dunno. From the way Hammer and Krugs talk about Christmas, it sounds like they save the really good food for holidays and probably eat this the rest of the year.”  

“I wouldn’t mind living on salmon and meatballs.” Patrick popped the rest of the meatball in his mouth and spread some lingonberry jam on a potato pancake.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asked with a concerned look.

“The cream sauce is for the meatballs. The jam’s for these.” He took a bite and closed his eyes. “Oh man, this is good.”

As skeptical as he was, Jonathan decided to cut off a piece of potato pancake and put some jam on it. The tartness of the jam cut the fried taste of the pancake, and it really did taste good. Maybe he should hang out with the Swedish guys more often if it meant eating stuff like this.

Patrick took a sip of the lingonberry drink. “Damn, I need to find this stuff. This is really good. Kinda like cranberry juice.”

“I don’t remember even eating this good when we went to Finland. Mainly just American food,” Jonathan said. “Wonder where you can get this.”

“I thought there was a food section somewhere. We’ll have to look when we’re done.”

The chocolate cake, thawed but still cold, was like heaven on a plate. Jonathan hoped eating it so late wouldn’t keep him from getting even a couple hours’ sleep.

When they finished, they washed the dishes and pans they’d used - common sense, really, and no one would be the wiser. Patrick offered to do the washing and left Jonathan to the drying, which surprised him. Well, maybe it didn’t, since the change in Patrick that everyone talked about affected everything he did now. He was more of an adult than most guys, more like...Jonathan. And it was kind of weird to think that as Patrick became more settled, Jonathan started loosening up a little more. They had their moments when they’d act like their former selves, but they were few and far between. Perhaps they were both maturing, each in their own way. Jonathan could’ve dwelled on it a bit more if Patrick hadn’t thrown his towel at him.

They put the plates, silverware and cookware back, leaving the kitchen the way they found it. As they walked back out to the dining area, Jonathan nudged Patrick playfully. “When did you learn to wash dishes?” he teased.

“Better question - when did you learn farming?” Patrick shot back.

Jonathan wasn’t about to let him know that he’d learned about rooftop gardening from what Patrick called “the freaky hipster crowd”, so he smirked. “Top secret. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

 

**12:40 a.m.**

Knowing it was a maze that you had to follow a certain way, they went through the Marketplace according to the arrows on the floor. Patrick had already grabbed a pencil and paper from upstairs and wrote down things he wanted to get on his next visit to the store - a visit preferably within business hours. He’d scribbled down little things - a lamp, some things for his kitchen and those damn pillows. It wasn’t till they wound all the way through and found themselves near the checkout that they saw the food market.

“Told you I thought they had a food section,” Patrick said triumphantly.

All the food had Swedish names and English descriptions. Some, like “potatischips”, were straightforward, but it was the names like “kötbullar” that confused Jonathan.

Then they found [the gingerbread cookies](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/20225918/).

“Pepparkaka,” Patrick said under his breath with a chuckle. “Oh my god, that’s too damn funny.”

“Looks like kaka means cookie,” Jonathan said as he looked at the other cookie packages.

“Fuck, that’s even worse.” Now Patrick was full-on laughing and could only spit out “peppar” before laughing harder.

It took Jonathan a few moments to let himself think like a 12 year old, but he started laughing once he did. He wasn’t going to attempt to say what Patrick was trying to say, but they both knew “pepper shit” was on their minds.

While Patrick wandered off to find the lingonberry drink boxes, Jonathan found a wall of pick and mix candy. Most of them were gummy candies, fruit-flavored hard candy, jelly beans and chocolate drops. He started walking away from the display when he remembered what Patrick said about him forsaking sugar for his organic diet. He had to admit, the chocolate cake was incredible, and he wasn’t feeling any effects from it, so he decided to grab a piece of candy just to try it. He chose the gummy green frogs, which he discovered tasted like green apple. As he looked over the rest of the candy, he suddenly felt the impulse to fill a bag with different kinds and keep them for later, just for himself. Yes, he’d gladly pay for them any other time, but no one was here to take his money, and no one would know. It wasn’t like they’d be missed, especially if he didn’t take a giant scoop of each, and he’d only pick a few things.

As quietly as he could, he opened a bag and began to fill it with a few pieces of gummy frogs, toffee drops, gummy strawberries, Swedish fish and rum drops. The bag was a little less than half full, but it still fit easily in his coat pocket. He almost filled a second bag of just chocolate but thought that was too greedy, and he’d be too tempted to eat it all anyway. One bag was enough.

He found Patrick looking at [the lingonberry syrup](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/50296004/) and [drink boxes](http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/50149777/). “Dude, there better be an IKEA near my place back home, because I’m buying about a case of this concentrated juice. It’ll be a lingonberry party all summer, and my mouth’s invited.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “What if they don’t have one in Buffalo?”

“Nah, they have to. Maybe I’ll get some pillows up there for all the bedrooms. I’ll get the cheap ones so it won’t matter if they’re destroyed. Epic pillow fights in the living room. Hell yeah.” Patrick yawned. “I’m getting tired. Think we should head upstairs and find beds for the night?”

 

**1:15 a.m.**

The debate began. Should they sleep on the mattresses on the showroom floor, or use one of the display apartments? Patrick argued that the mattresses would help them sleep better, but Jonathan thought they’d feel a bit more secure in a secluded area. That seemed to sway Patrick, and they settled on one of the smaller display apartments. The bed had a lot of decorative pillows but still looked big enough to sleep on, while the couch seemed to be long enough that neither would be too uncomfortable.

After a quick game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to figure out who went where, Patrick settled onto the bed with a sigh. “You know, you were right. It’s been fun being locked in here with you,” he said with a yawn. “I liked hanging out with you, even if we didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, I liked it,” Jonathan said as he shifted a few pillows and stretched out on the couch. “Hey, maybe we could catch a Cubs game around the Convention. Haven’t been to one to just watch it in a long time. Remember when a bunch of us went back in 2010? You, me, Soupy, I forget who else. That was pretty cool. Let’s do that. I’ll get the tickets, and we’ll even hit up that burrito place right by the Red Line that you like. How’s that sound?”

When he didn’t get an answer, Jonathan looked over at the bed. Patrick was sound asleep, his suit jacket draped over him like a makeshift blanket. Jonathan shook his head and laid back down, settling into sleep even though he couldn’t really relax.

 

**8:30 a.m.**

Jonathan had set the alarm on his watch in case they could round up something to eat before anyone came to the restaurant. He knew they were both sleeping in, but it was their day off anyway, so it didn’t matter. He got up quietly and stretched, having had a pleasant sleep for being on a couch, and looked over at Patrick as he straightened the pillows. He hadn’t moved in six hours. He could always sleep in one position, which had been a bit unsettling to discover when they first roomed together.

As Jonathan peered around the walls toward the restaurant, he saw a couple of people behind the steam tables, presumably getting things ready for the day. The smell of eggs and sausage were faint from where he stood, and after enjoying it, he started to panic.

“Kaner!” he whispered as he slipped back into the display and shook Patrick awake. “Get up, we need to hide again.”

Patrick yawned and stretched. “Wha, why do we need to hide?”

“There are people in the restaurant. I think they’re getting breakfast ready.” Jonathan grabbed Patrick’s coat and shook it lightly. “C’mon, we could hide in the laundry room thing by the kitchen.”

Patrick yawned again and followed Jonathan to a room just off the kitchen setup. It had a front-loading washer and dryer and cabinets with countertops beside them. Shelves were mounted over the washer and dryer, and there were more cabinets over the others. They hid well out of sight and stifled yawns as they stood there.

“You think we could get breakfast?” Patrick said. “Like, just something simple.”

“We need to wait till the store opens. When is that?”

“Ten, I think.”

Shit. Could they wait an hour and a half to leave? They’d have to so no one would wonder where they came from. They’d just blend into the crowd that would come in, go eat and leave. It sounded like a good plan.

“We need to wait till then. How about a snack to hold us over?” Jonathan pulled the bag of candy out of his jacket pocket and opened it.

“No shit, you got candy? Captain Serious, stealing from IKEA.” Patrick looked in the bag and grabbed a few Swedish fish and gummy strawberries.

“Consider that your fruit for breakfast,” Jonathan said with a chuckle.

While they rationed the candy - which meant not eating a lot so they could have breakfast - they started really making plans to hit up a Cubs game in the summer. It didn’t take long for them to agree to go to two games together, one in July and one before training camp would start. Jonathan felt like he had his old friend back.

 

**9:30 a.m.**

The clamoring in the restaurant grew louder, drawing Jonathan to see what was going on. A few people were filing into line, probably fueling up before they browsed the store. He went back to the laundry room with a smile.

“We have half an hour till the store opens,” he said. “What we should do is wait till 10:15 and slip out one at a time to make it look like we’re looking around. We’ll meet in the kitchen section and take the shortcut through to the restaurant. Don’t act like you’ve been in here all night. Just make it look like you’re looking around.”

“So, be a ninja and ease into the flow while no one’s looking.” Patrick grinned. “I like that.”

The half hour dragged, and they could smell waffles and coffee wafting through the showroom. At the last minute, Patrick decided to buy a sheet set to really make it look like they’d walked in the store. Jonathan agreed to do the same, no patterns or weird colors.

 

**10:15 a.m.**

Patrick slipped out first, casually looking through the laundry room before heading out into the kitchen and living room area and even testing the couch before leaving the display apartment. Jonathan waited a few minutes before sneaking into the bathroom as though he were looking through it. He quietly went out into the showroom, hoping no one would think he looked out of place in a suit. He made his way to the kitchen displays, where Patrick was looking at a double oven setup.

“You think I could use this at my place?” Patrick asked.

Jonathan snorted. “You’re either not home, or it’s only you and your family there. You don’t need to cook that much food. Speaking of which, let’s go eat.”

They headed slowly to the restaurant and each grabbed a tray. Patrick got a plate of waffles, a simple breakfast combo of eggs, sausage and home fries and a cup of coffee. Jonathan did the same and told himself he’d have a really intense workout and the healthiest lunch in history to make up for it. Both meals cost less than ten dollars, which Patrick paid in spite of Jonathan’s objections. When they sat down to eat, Jonathan was still insistent on paying for his food.

“I got us in this mess. This is the least I can do to make up for it,” Patrick said. “Let me do this, okay?”

Jonathan nodded. They ate in relative silence, only briefly mentioning the urgent need to charge their phones and Patrick taking Jonathan back to his car at the airport.

When they finished, they went down to the Marketplace and got their sheet sets - Patrick took black, while Jonathan took navy. The lady at the checkout recognized them but said nothing, and Jonathan wondered if she could tell where they’d been for the past fourteen hours. On the way out, Patrick bought a bottle of lingonberry syrup at the food market because, he said, “I don’t think I’ll be back here for a while.” Finally, with a whoosh of the automatic door, they walked outside.

The sun felt good even if the air was chilly. Patrick’s car was cold, so it must’ve been colder during the night. He turned on the heater and waited before driving off to the airport.

“First thing I’m doing when I get home is taking a shower,” Patrick said. “Then I’ll try to explain to Mom and Dad what happened. They might believe me since you were with me. Then I’m making some lingonberry shit.”

“I hope Lindsey didn’t call out the National Guard looking for me. Someone probably told her I’d be okay.” Jonathan worried that she might’ve called his parents and worried them about his disappearance. He’d have a huge task ahead of him in talking them down and telling them everything.

Thankfully, Jonathan’s car was still in the parking lot when they got there. Before he got out of the car, Patrick stopped him. “May your day be filled with pepparkaka,” he said while trying not to laugh.

 

The drive home was the loneliest 30 minutes he’d spent by himself in a long time. He thought about the baseball plans he and Patrick made and decided to make that a priority when he got home. Lucky for him, traffic wasn’t that bad on the Kennedy, so he was home shortly before noon.

Lindsey’s car was gone, which meant she was either out running errands or at work. He parked and was about to unlock his front gate when he heard a familiar voice.

“Toes! Where the hell have you been?”

The last person Jonathan thought he’d run into was Sharpie. Good old Sharpie, still an instigator via text even after he was traded to the Stars. In fact, they were scheduled to play the Stars on Wednesday, and they must’ve gotten into town already.

“Sharpie, how are ya? How’s Dallas treating you?”

“Pretty well, everyone seems to like me in spite of having played with you and Peeks.” He took out his phone. “By the way, what’s he up to? I tried to call him last night, but all I got was his voicemail.”

“Yeah, his phone died. We - we hung out for a while when we got home.”

“Oh yeah? How are the meatballs at IKEA?”

Wait, how the hell would he know where he and Patrick were? As far as he knew, no one knew about their plans, unless Patrick had told Shaw or Seabs. Then again, this was the same old Sharpie, so…

“You fucking asshole.”

Sharpie laughed. “I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out.”

“How did you pull it off? We thought someone would come looking for us.”

“Your girlfriend called Seabs’ wife and was worried. Then Peeks’ dad called Seabs. He called Shaw, and he remembered Peeks telling him he was gonna make it to IKEA before it closed. It was about that time that I texted Seabs looking for you two, and I became part of the search party. We found his car there and convinced the security guard to leave you guys to suffer it out all night.”

“Fucker. Do you do this shit with Seguin and Benn?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.”

Jonathan shook his head. It didn’t surprise him that he kept up the practical jokes, and he was glad that he wasn’t the only target. He reached out and grabbed him up in a hug. “Good to see ya, old man.”

“You too, Toe-ez.”

They said goodbye, with Sharpie headed to see Patrick, and Jonathan went into the house. As soon as he sat his barely-charged phone on the counter (he considered himself a genius for leaving a charger in his car), he got a text from Patrick.

_The closest IKEA to Buffalo is in Ontario. Burlington. Two hour drive. This is bullshit._

Jonathan chuckled as he texted him back.

_If you think that’s bad, let me tell you what I just found out..._


End file.
